Beauty and the Beast
by tomoyohime8
Summary: He would never admit it, but his favorite story had always been Beauty and the Beast. - written for gypsyhips. meixkasanoda


He would never admit it, but his favorite story had always been Beauty and the Beast.

Before he had been able to read it for himself, he had forced many of his loyal subordinates to read it to him.

Every night, he would dream of a faceless figure, and though he could never make out her features, he knew beyond a doubt that she was beautiful.

It never failed to give him hope that someday, he would meet his Beauty.

X

He'd been taught from a very early age to never show fear, never show weakness. He did not only look like a monster, he had to act like one as well. All througout his primary years, his classmates, and sometimes even his teachers were afraid of him.

He didn't hate it – he was resigned to it, resigned to the fact that his future might have to be one he'd spend alone.

And so he looks up towards his new school, Ouran Academy, with a resolve to change the seemingly certain outcome of his life.

He'd beg if he had to, but he had to get Morinozuka Takashi to share his secret to popularity.

X

It was early into his first year at Ouran when Kasanoda fell in love.

It was also during that same time when he discovered heartbreak.

Fujioka was kind, cute and down to earth. She was everything he'd imagined, and more.

But before he could tell her so, she says to him of how good friends they'll be, shattering his heart in the process.

He smiles in spite of it.

Even if she didn't feel the same way at that moment, maybe in the future, she'd see him in a different way.

He'd wait for her, until she'd decided.

He'd be there when she chooses.

"We'll be friends forever!" he swears vehemently.

X

It's several years later and even he is surprised as to how different his life is to what he expected it to be.

How much he's changed since he entered Ouran.

Since Haruhi.

Since the host club.

Since friends.

He's head of his clan now, and he and Fujioka are still friends, even if he is a Yakuza head and she is a lawyer.

He's given up on her, ever since she decided way back in the summer before their senior year that Suoh was the man for her, around the same time she'd revealed herself as a woman.

He loved her enough to let her go, at least.

X

She invited him to the wedding, and Suoh even made him a groomsman.

He's not used to a tuxedo, and the stiff collar is tight around his neck.

She was a vision in white, her hair long and loose. He'd never seen her look happier, as she walked down the aisle.

But that was hours ago and the reception was now in full swing.

He'd been drinking his champagne, any excuse to keep the women from asking him to dance.

And then from out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something odd.

One of the chandeliers was oddly placed. Tilted as if it was hanging only by a single chai –

He rushes, because some girl is underneath that chandelier and he jumps, knocking her over in the process, but just in time, just before the chandelier crashes and crushes the girl.

He can't recall her name – though he recognizes her as Haruhi's maid of honor.

He's impressed – not that many women could go through such an experience and keep a straight disposition.

"Thank you," she says, and he helps her to her feet.

Around them, the party is sort of shifting into an organized chaos. Haninozuka and Morinozuka-senpai are handing out first aid kits to those who'd been injured by the stray shards of glass.

Ootori - senpai was calling the police.

The newly married couple were going around and reassuring the frightened guests, and the Hitachiin brothers were trying to restart the party.

"What's your name?," the girls suddenly ask him. He tells her, and he is impressed again when she does not frown after hearing his surname.

She's scrubbed clean, and he's no expert, but he can tell that her face was once covered in an amazing amount of make-up, identifying her as at least a former hard core ganguro.

One with the loveliest eyes he'd ever seen.

A voice calls out his name, and it is only then that he realizes that they've been staring at each other.

He reddens from the attention, good natured catcalls and teasing he is receiving.

The music starts up again and she asks him to dance.

Neither of them are very good dancers, but surprisingly, they have a terrific time laughing at themselves and each other.

Yasumura Mei isn't from Ouran, but graduated from a public school.

She was a writer for a well known magazine, a job she suspects she got from connections with Haruhi's friends, but a job she tells him she is certain she earned to keep.

He tells her funny stories about the businesses he oversees and for once, he isn't apprehensive about sharing these with her.

Her laugh is strong and loud, not dainty and polite like well bred young ladies are taught to do.

He decides he likes the former better.

X

They bump into each other occasionally (and sometimes deliberately on his part) over the next few weeks, and this time he has resolved to at least get her phone number.

Start small.

He remembers Haruhi's words from just a few days ago, and they give him strength.

"She doesn't waste time on those she thinks aren't worth her time."

He hopes she won't consider him a waste of time.

X

He is up early this morning.

Today's the day.

A bouquet of the finest spring flowers is on the table next to his futon, and he's dressed his best.

He's just tied back his hair when one of his subordinates tells him that a young lady is outside looking for him.

He takes the bouquet with him.

"Yasamura-san," he says with surprise, and deep within himself, small stirrings of happiness well up at the thought of her coming her to see him.

"Oh… I didn't know you were planning to go somewhere, Kasanoda-san." She looks away and hands him a package.

"Master – maybe you shouldn't accept that package directly," says one of the older servants.

He opens his mouth to say more when Yasamura goes up to the man and whispers something incoherent into his ear.

The old servant's eyes widen fearfully and he nods stiffly.

Her face at that moment was brilliantly intimidating, one that would have made his mother, one of the most powerful big sisters during her time, proud.

"Can I open it, Yasamura-san?" he asks her, and she nods.

It's chocolate, Valentines chocolate.

A small smile grows on his face and he goes down the steps the where she stood and hands over the bouquet to her stiffly, hoping that she wouldn't see how red his face has become.

"Kasanoda-san…"

"Ritsu."

"What?"

"Call me Ritsu."

"Alright."

And in that word, he knows, that after long years of searching, he'd found his Beauty.


End file.
